THE authors to whom we are indebted for our infor­mation
on the subject of this eventful story, continue
their relation in the following terms:—After his stupen­dous
victory over Jerjudehn*
and the sons of Kourû,*
Rajah Judishter,*
and his four brothers, continued to
exercise the sovereign power without competition, for a
period of six and thirty years. At the expiration of that
period, several omens of an inauspicious character began,
however, to make their appearance. Furious and
adverse winds arose, driving before them even stones and
rocks; animals, whose appearance on the right hand betokened
good fortune, exhibited themselves on the sinister
quarter, and such as ought to have appeared to the left,
passed upon the right: the waters ascended contrary
to their course; the sky rained fire, and ashes, and half-burnt
cinders; at other times, in a perfect calm, and
when it could not have been occasioned by the march of
armies, or other multitudinous bodies, clouds of dust
arose in such masses as to obscure the light of the sun:
it afforded neither light nor radiance; and around that
luminary, also, might be observed what had the appear­ance
of a stupendous dome,*
or arch, and on every side
of it a circle of dark stars, or shots, in the very middle
of the day; these were followed, at intervals, by other
portents which fill the hearts of men with sorrow and
alarm.

The sons of Pandû,*
and the whole of the people
subject to their authority, thrown into consternation by
the appearance of these prodigies, became assured that
they must prognosticate some fearful calamities; and it
was at such a crisis, (while the illustrious members of the
family were one day seated in the midst of their nobles)
that a person arrived from Duarka,*
with intelligence
that the Jadous,*
the kindred of Krishna,*
so called,
had been drawn into civil conflict, and had all perished
by the sword. The Rajah, and his people, were over­whelmed
with affliction by the intelligence; and the
following day, having called together the great men of
the country, the Rajah proceeded to state to them the
accounts which had reached him, testifying equal grief
and apprehension, lest some fearful calamity might have
happened to their adored Krishna. Several of these
grandees expressed an opinion that such information was
not to be relied upon, considering it very improbable that
any events of such a nature should have occurred when
Krishna was present. They therefore intreated him
to calm his apprehensions until the truth should be ascertained.
To put the matter out of doubt, Rajah
Judishter accordingly signified a desire that some person
might be dispatched to Duarka, in order to obtain posi­tive
information as to the state of affairs with Krishna,
his brother Balbehdder,*
and the rest of the family.

Here Rajah Jemenjah*
demanded of Bishempayina,*
what it was that could have occasioned this unnatural
and sanguinary conflict among the Jadous, notwith­standing
the presence of such a leader as Kessou.*
When six and thirty years had expired of the reign of
Judishter, and the sons of Pandû, replied the sage, in
consequence of the malediction of certain Brahmins,
those fatal hostilities arose among the Jadous, which ter­minated
in the destruction of the whole race: and being
further requested to explain by whom it was that the
malediction was uttered, which could have produced
such a calamitous result, Bishempayina proceeded to
relate as follows:—Biswamitra,*
Derbaussa,*
and
Nareda,*
all of them Rehkkisers,*
or ascetics of the
highest class, so much so, that from head to foot they
were one body of devotion and abstinence, happened on
a time to be sitting together in meditation on the per­fections
of the Supreme Being. It also happened that
Sârum*
the son of Basdeu,*
and Samenba,**
or
Samenpet, the son of Krishna, accompanied by a crowd
of boys of the Jadou nation, in pursuit of amusement,
came to the spot where the three ascetics had secluded
themselves. As soon as the young people saw who they
were, they put the son of Krishna into the disguise of a
young woman, and leading him so disguised into the
presence of the three Brahmins, they stated that this
person was the wife of one of the Jadou tribe, and that
being pregnant, they were desirous of learning from
them, what from their exalted character they could
doubtless be able to decide, the nature of the issue to
which she was destined to give birth.

“We are not ignorant,” said the Rehkkisers, “whom
it is that you have attempted to impose upon us as a
female; we know it to be the son of Krishna: that
to which he shall give birth will be a wedge of iron,
destined to be an instrument of destruction to the whole
race of Jadou. Now we repeat, that since, instead of
a virtuous life, you have preferred a course of evil;
since, on scoffing at and turning into ridicule such
harmless and defenceless objects as we are, you have given
abundant proof of the pride and arrogance with which
you are animated, it behoves you to remember, this
same wedge, or piece of iron, as surely as we have
foretold it, will be instrumental to your destruction,
and that of the whole of your race, Krishna and Bal­behdder
alone excepted. Neither will they be permitted
long to survive; for soon after the catastrophe, Bal­behdder
will be called upon to quit this mortal form,
and pass into the ocean; and Krishna himself shall
leave the world.”

Having thus said, the three Rehkkisers arose together,
and throwing the deer-skins on which they had been
seated across their shoulders, withdrew from Duarka,
making the best of their way towards Hastnapour,*
to the province of Rajah Judishter, where in due time
they arrived in safety. The youths of Duarka, on the
other hand, grieved beyond measure at what they had
heard from the three Brahmins, and deeply regretting
what they had done, returned to their homes in the
city. The circumstance in a short time became known
among the inhabitants, and occasioned some alarming
apprehensions. Krishna was also apprized of the
portentous prediction, and his observation was, that
whatever was the will of God would surely come to
pass. He said no more, and betook himself to his
home.

The very next day, or very shortly afterwards, a
piece of iron, of the precise description foretold by the
Brahmins, was discharged from the bowels of Sampa or
Samba, that very thing which was to consummate the
doom of the race of Jadou. In shape, it was similar to
the club made use of, and wielded round the head, by
Athletæ,*
and others whose profession it is to exhibit
feats of strength.

The appearance of this prodigy was early reported to
Oukra Sing,*
who directed his smiths to take the
ominous substance in hand, and by filing reduce it to
nothing. They accordingly set to work, and scattering
the filings among the sands on the sea shore, continued
to make use of these files, until the substance became
something less than the palm of a man’s hand; but
when they found that all their endeavours to reduce it
to a smaller size were unavailing, they cast the remain­ing
part into the sea. The filings which they had thrown
among the sands produced a sea weed,*
or something
of that kind growing along the sea shore.

This done, it was proclaimed throughout the city,
that Rajah Oukra Sing, and Krishna, and Balbehdder,
had joined to prohibit the use of inebriating liquors,
under the penalty of death; it being, at the same time,
announced that any person detected in transgressing this
ordinance of the reigning powers would be impaled
alive, together with all his family. Hence, as might
have been expected, the people very generally abstained
from drinking, their terror of detection being so great,
that they durst not even pronounce the very name of the
proscribed beverage.

Not long afterwards, there was seen a fearful appari­tion,
in the form of a human being, whose complexion
was a mixture of black and yellow, his head bald, and
all his limbs distorted, supposed to be the angel of
death,*
prowling about Duarká, and presenting himself
at the doors of the inhabitants, to their infinite dismay
and terror. Nevertheless, when assailed by their arrows,
the apparition vanished in a manner that none could ever
tell what it was, or whither it went.

Tremendous hurricanes then arose, tearing up whole
forests by the root, and carrying away both man and
beast. The dwellings of the inhabitants became infested
with rats to such a degree, that thousands of thousands
filled every house; in short, nothing could be laid aside
for keeping that they did not either carry off or destroy.
The market places were completely over-run by these
pestilent animals, which eat off even the hair and beards
of the men, while asleep. The nightingale and the
Sharek*
were both scared by the noise of the rats, and
the hootings of the owl, and continued their wailings
both night and day. The owls flocked to the houses
also in immense numbers, filling the air from night
to morning with their doleful cries from the ter­races.

The time was also remarkable for monstrous births in
a variety of shapes: kine brought forth asses; swine
brought forth colts; dogs produced cats and weazels,
rats or mice. Vice and profligacy in every shape, and
to an alarming degree, pervaded the whole race of
Jadou. The poor man and the devotee were equally
exposed to every species of abuse. Neither learning,
nor the instructors of youth, were any longer the object
of respect. Men were over-ruled by women; fire gave
no light, and flame burnt black and blue. The sun at
rising and setting was surrounded by thousands of thou­sands
of headless human forms,*
which, sword and spear
in hand, appeared engaged in mortal conflict, the whole
people contemplating the fearful spectacle with astonish­ment
and consternation.

The skins employed to repose upon by Joguies and
other devotees, they found, if quitted even for the short­est
interval, changed into maggots, or other vermin.
The moon was eclipsed*
on its twelfth day, and the sun
on the twenty-seventh day of the moon. Observing this
latter phenomenon, Krishna remarked, that these untimely
eclipses of the sun and moon had occurred before
during the war of the Mahabarat, and this was the second
instance, in a period of six and thirty years which
had since elapsed. At that time, he said, a curse had
been imprecated upon him by Kandahâry,*
for the
part he had taken in the death of Jurjudehn and the sons
of Kourû. Prodigies such as these, he added, occurred
at the crisis of the destruction of that race, and their
present occurrence probably foreboded some similar
catastrophe.

On a subsequent night a proclamation was issued by
Krishna, that the whole of the people should repair
on the following morning to the sea-shore, there to
perform a service of devotion to the deity*
they wor­shipped.
That same night there appeared at Duarka a
black woman, clothed also in black, with yellow teeth.
This apparition went from house to house grinning at
the inhabitants to their infinite dismay, and when they
attempted to seize it vanishing from one place to shew
itself at another, until it had made a circuit of the
whole city. The jewels of the women and the arms of
the men were at the same time carried off by evil spirits,
without the possibility of recovery. The Chakra*
or
discus of Krishna, was taken up to heaven in sight of
the people, who gave way to the loudest expression of
grief on the occasion. Dâreka,*
the elephant driver*
of Krishna, having harnessed the horses to the car of his
master, the animals made a sudden spring, and bearing
the car into the air, crossed the sea, and disappeared for
ever.

The device on the standard of Balbehdder, the brother
of Krishna, was a taur,*
or toddy palm, and that on
the standard of Krishna was a symourg, or phœnix;
both these figures were suddenly seen to separate from
the standards on which they were delineated, and rising
into the air, vanished from the sight for ever. Voices
were also heard in the air, calling upon the people to be
“up and away.” Similar voices were heard also in the
dwellings of the inhabitants.

In obedience to this proclamation of Krishna, the
inhabitants of Duarka proceeded on the day proposed
to the sea shore, by every species of conveyance, and
provided in splendid abundance with every requisite to
testify their devotion to the god of their adoration. On
that very day a personage of the highest distinction
among the race of Jadou, who bore the name of Oudhou,*
and who was without a rival in prudence, piety,
and every virtue that could adorn the mind, unexpectedly
besought and obtained the permission of Krishna,
to withdraw into the northern regions. This person is
said, through the intensity of his devotion, to have become
so enrobed in light, that the spot where he stood
appeared illuminated as if it were the effect of fire.

When, on this occasion, the people had taken their
places in the order arranged for them, they were directed
by Krishna, as an indispensable preliminary, to make a
distribution to the Brahmins of every kind of refresh­ment,
meat, and drink, and confectionary. When these
refreshments had been properly arranged, a certain indi­vidual
of the Jadou tribe, carrying in his hand a jar of
liquor, had indulged to such excess, that he became
brutally intoxicated; and in this state, pouring a small
quantity of the liquor into the palm of his hand, he
dared to sprinkle it over the food intended for the Brah­mins:
the latter, of course, abstained with abhorrence
from tasting any part of it; and Krishna, in conse­quence,
directed that the whole should be thrown to the
monkeys.

The jugglers and singers, the music both vocal and
instrumental, now struck up on every side, and the whole
of the people, who in consequence of the prohibition had
abstained for some time from the use of liquor, now that
they had received permission, proceeded to indulge them­selves
without restraint. The divine Krishna, on his part,
presided over a splendid circle, composed of whatever
was noble and illustrious among the race of Jadou.
Such were Oukra Sing, the reigning chief, and Bal­behdder
the elder brother of Krishna and Beyrû,*
and
Sautek, and Kerretburma,*
and Purdeman,*
and Nes­set,*
the sons of Krishna, and numerous others who
graced this magnificent assembly with their presence;
and but few of any name among the tribe were absent
on this occasion. When the assemblage seemed com­plete,
and the different chiefs had taken their places,
Balbehdder, who as already noticed, was the elder brother
of Krishna, and who is described as the grand promoter
of drinking, now gave orders that jars of wine or other
liquors should be brought in, and arranged before the
several guests, who immediately formed into small sepa­rate
parties, for the better convenience of social conver­sation.
Thus Balbehdder and Kerretburmâ sat together;
Purdeman with Sautek and Serna,*
the younger brother
of Krishna.

Of these, Sautek becoming early intoxicated, and directing
his eye towards Kerretburma, called to his friends
to observe the insolence of that boastful and arrogant
Tchetry,*
dilating on the exploits performed by himself
and Ashoutehâma,*
against a band of beardless boys,
and the glory of having butchered so many undefending
mendicants. Purdeman loudly applauded the remark
of his brother; and Kerretburma, by this time also
considerably heated with what he had been drinking, addressed
himself to Sautek, and demanded if it became him
to be sarcastic, or to indulge in such remarks, who had
stolen the light of Serwaudet.*
Here Krishna beckon­ing
to Sautek, hinted to him to relate the fact of Kerret­burma
having murdered Setrâjut,*
and robbed of the
mysterious jewels, of which he was the possessor. The
circumstance of this transaction are then described in the
following terms.

Setrâjut was a person of the Jadou tribe, who had a
younger brother of the name of Bebber Sing.*
The
former had distinguished himself in an eminent degree
by his zeal in the adoration of the sun, and that luminary
was so attracted by the fervour of his devotion, that it
bestowed upon him a gem of such transcendant lustre
as to rival its own radiance.

Setrâjut suspended this unrivalled jewel to his neck,
and as he was on some occasion proceeding on a visit to
Krishna, and such a splendor was diffused around him,
that the attendants concurred it could be no other than
the sun himself coming to see their master, and so announced
him. Krishna told them with a smile, that it
was not indeed the sun, but Setrâjut, and that the sur­prising
radiance which they had observed, was produced
by a jewel which he wore on his neck, and which had
been presented to him by the sun. When accordingly
Setrâjut had entered, and seated himself among them,
they began to interrogate him them on the subject of his
extraordinary gem, and he told them without hesitation
that it was a present from the luminary which he adored;
neither did he conceal from them some miraculous properties
which belonged to it: such as that it gave to the
ground on which it beamed the value of twenty ass loads
of gold; that it protected the person who bore it from
pain and affliction, and from the bite or sting of snake
and scorpion, and every other noxious reptile whatever.
It possessed many other virtues, which he did not, he
said, think it necessary to enumerate; but he had already
said enough to awaken the wonder and admiration of his
hearers.

Having left the presence of Krishna, Setrâjut returned
home; and shortly afterwards he received a message
from Krishna, importing that Oukra Sing, their common
chief, had signified his desire to be possessed of the
jewel, and advising him, as it was an article of such
extraordinary rarity that crowned heads were alone
worthy of its possession, to send it to the presence with­out
delay. The answer of Setrâjut was conceived in the
following terms:

“You have every thing at command; but as for me,
after years of devotion to the sun, this jewel has been
bestowed upon me, as a proof of the approbation of the
deity whom I adore, and while I have life I will never
resign it to any one.”

This reply was conveyed to Krishna, and he said no
more on the subject.

One day, however, the brother of Setrâjut, the Bebber
Sing above noticed, took it into his head to place this
jewel on his neck, and having mounted his horse, and
paraded some time before the entrance of Krishna’s
dwelling, rode out to hunt on the neighbouring plains;
but here a lion crossed his path, and although he drew
his sword to defend himself, with a stroke of his paw
killed him on the spot. Seeing the jewel at his neck,
the lordly animal seized it with its mouth, and went its
way. It had not, however, proceeded far, when it met
with a bear, and in the conflict which ensued the lion
was killed. The jewel thus came into possession of the
bear, by which it was conveyed to its den. As many days
now passed without any intelligence of Bebber Sing,
people did not scruple to assert that Krishna had mur­dered
him, and stolen the jewel.

The foul slander which was in circulation against him,
was communicated to Krishna, and excited the deepest
indignation in his bosom. Forthwith taking with him
some of the most expert tracers of game, he followed the
footmarks left by Bebber Sing’s horse, until he came to
the spot where lay the rider’s lifeless body, with every
indication that he had been slain by a wild beast. The
track of the lion was sufficiently distinct, and they fol­lowed
it carefully to the spot where they found the
carcase. They lastly traced the footmarks of the bear
until they came to the mouth of a large cavern on the
side of a mountain. Here Krishna told his attendants
that he should enter the cavern alone, where probably
he should find the jewel of which they were in search.

From this they in vain endeavoured to dissuade him,
as he persisted in his determination, directing them to
remain at the entrance of the cavern for twelve days,
and if at the termination of that period they saw
nothing of him, they might return to Duarka.

Krishna entered the cavern accordingly, and having
proceeded some distance within, the first object he beheld
was a female of exquisite beauty, seated by a cradle
containing an infant child, and above the cradle was sus­pended
the jewel of which he was in search. As soon
as she saw the intruder, the female uttered a loud cry,
which reaching the ears of the bear Jamounet, or Jamounta,*
who was the father of the damsel, the latter
rushed to the spot and commenced a furious combat with
Krishna, which was continued, with little intermission,
for a period of eight and twenty days. On the eight and
twentieth day, however, victory declared for Krishna;
his antagonist, in acknowledging his defeat, assuring him
that, with the exception of Rama, he had never before
met with a conqueror. Now, therefore, that he had experienced
the matchless power of his arm, he had no
difficulty in giving him the glory, he besought him to
pursue his vengeance no further, for that he submitted
to become his vassal. Krishna forebore accordingly from
further molestation, and Jamounta, together with his
beautiful daughter whom he presented to him for his
wife, delivered to him the mysterious gem, the object of
such avidity, with a variety of other precious rarities, of
which he thus made an offering to his conqueror.

Krishna, with his new bride, the jewel, and other rari­ties,
now quitted the cavern of Jamounta; his attendants
having departed, when, at the expiration of twelve days,
they found that he did not return according to promise.
On reaching Duarka, they communicated all that they
knew of the fate of Krishna, to his father Basdeu, to his
brother Balbehdder, and to his wives and children, and
other relatives; and his disappearance produced in the
whole of Duarka the deepest sorrow and affliction. Set­râjut
and his brothers were exposed to the most bitter
reproaches, as having by these slanderous reports occa­sioned
the distress; and they were preparing to mourn
for his loss, when to their universal delight their favourite
Krishna appeared once more among them.

The people of Duarka being now called together by
Krishna, he delivered to Setrâjut, in the presence of the
whole assembly, the jewel which had occasioned such
unjust suspicions; the men who had attended him in his
search, bearing testimony to all the circumstances which
had been discovered of the fate of Bebber Sing; his
death by the lion, and the death of the lion by the bear.
Setrâjut expressed the deepest regret for the suspicions
which he had so unjustly entertained of the conduct of
Krishna, at whose feet he now fell imploring forgive­ness:
and as some atonement for what had happened, together
with the mysterious jewel, offered him the hand
of his daughter Setbahamah.*
Krishna accepted of the
damsel, but declined the jewel altogether.

At a subsequent period, while Krishna was absent on
a visit to the sons of Pandû, at Hastnapour, Kerret­burma,
availing himself of the opportunity, employed
his brother Setdeu,*
one night to murder Setrâjut, and
bring away the solar gem. Setbahâmah, the daughter of
Setrâjut and wife of Krishna, having caused the body
of her father to be preserved in a vessel of oil, made the
best of her way to Hastnapour, where with bitter lamentation
she announced to her husband the murder of
her father. Immediately calling for his charger,*
and
mounting, with Setbahamah behind him, he proceeded
on his return to Duarka.

The brother of Kerretburma, apprized of the approach
of Krishna, and aware that the murder of Setrâjut would
be fearfully avenged upon him, consigned the jewel to
another brother of the name of Egrour,*
or perhaps
Egrider, and mounting a mare of matchless speed, betook
himself to flight. Krishna, on his part, hearing of the
flight of Setdeu, again mounted the same charger, and
taking his brother Balbehdder along with him, set off in
pursuit of the fugitive. Having rode four hundred
kôsse on the same day, and his mare being disabled from
going any longer, Setdeu was compelled to dismount,
and continue his flight on foot. Soon afterwards
Krishna came up, and finding that the fugitive had
quitted his mare, also dismounted, and continued the
pursuit on foot. As he ran eagerly along, he soon over­took
the murderer, and with a single stroke of his
chakra severed his head from the body: but although
every part of his vesture was carefully examined, not a
vestige of the jewel could be discovered.

Shortly afterwards, Balbehdder also came up, and
abruptly demanded of his brother what he had done with
the jewel: Krishna truly replied, that after the minutest
search he had not been able to find any thing of it.
Hence, conceiving a suspicion that his brother had intentionally
secreted the jewel, Balbehdder became dis­pleased;
and immediately separating from Krishna,
withdrew towards Terhut,*
at this period under the
dominion of a certain Rajah Chung.*
The latter
conducted him to his palace with every demonstration of
respect, and there he continued to be hospitably enter­tained
for a considerable time. At this crisis, Rajah
Jerjudehn was residing at Hastnapour, and hearing that
Balbehdder had taken up his abode at Terhut, also
repaired to that place; where he long remained under
the tuition of Balbehdder, by whom he was instructed
in the use of the mace, war club, or battle axe.

On his separation from Balbehdder, Krishna returned
to Duarka; from whence, when he heard of
his approach, after having slain his brother, Ekrour
now fled with precipitation, taking away with him the
innocent cause of these jealousies, the precious solar
gem. The flight of this personage was succeeded by a
long and distressing drought at Duarka, in consequence
of a malediction which, on her grief at his absence, his
mother had prevailed upon a certain devotee to invoke
upon the land. When the rains had been thus for a long
time alarmingly withheld from the country, the people
presented themselves before Krishna, and implored
relief. Krishna, impelled by the extremity, sent mes­sengers
to recal the fugitive, and such was the language
of conciliation employed, that he was finally prevailed
upon to return to Duarka; and then, on being con­ducted
to the presence of Krishna, after many apologies,
he offered to place in his hands the much contested jewel.
Krishna, however, again declined acceptance, and returned
it to Ekrour.

Basdeu, the father of Krishna, when it was ascertained
that the jewel was still in the possession of Ekrour, dis­patched
without delay a request to Balbehdder, that he
would return to Duarka; and the messengers being at
the same time charged with explanations from Krishna
on the subject of the jewel, Balbehdder became ashamed
of his unjust suspicions, and returned accordingly to
Duarka, where, through the intervention of their common
father Basdeu, he became cordially reconciled to his
brother, with whom he continued to a distant period to
live on terms of the greatest amity, and in every species
of enjoyment.

Resuming the subject, from which the above is so
large a digression, the historian proceeds to relate, that
when, during the angry discussion between Sautek and
Kerretburma, Krishna demanded, with some asperity, of
the former why he hesitated to repeat the story of Set­râjut,
Setbahâmah, the daughter of that personage
and wife of Krishna, bursting into tears at the name of
her father, placed herself before Krishna, and indignantly
demanded, if then it was with his permission that these
men had murdered her father? Krishna spoke not a word;
but Sautek arose, and addressing Setbahâmah, desired
her to suspend her grief, for that he would amply avenge
upon these miscreants the blood of her father. “This
Kerretburma,” continued he, “is the man that, in con­junction
with Ashutâhama, unjustly slew the son of
Droopede and Sekahnde,*
with Dereshtedeman,*
and
so many thousand more blameless and innocent individuals.
Their years are numbered; and for the blood thus
cruelly shed, will I exact the most awful account.”
Having thus said, he drew his sword, and advanced towards
Kerretburma; the latter also placed his hand
upon his sword, and was in the act of rising from his seat,
when with one unerring sweep of the sword of Sautek
his head fell to the ground.

Several of the kindred of Kerretburma now rushed
upon Sautek, and many of them fell by his hand. Those
who sought to avenge the death of that chief were,
however, formidable in numbers; and as their attack
was exclusively directed towards his destroyer, the
friends of Sautek were not less eager to hasten to his
support. At such a crisis, observing that the uproar
was assuming a very alarming appearance, Krishna arose
and endeavoured to pacify or allay the fury of the com­batants;
but neither command nor remonstrance was
availing. The relations of Kerretburma continued to
press upon Sautek; and although his brother Purdaman
rushed courageously to his assistance, and put to death
many of his assailants, the two gallant brothers were
finally overpowered, and slain in the very presence of
Krishna. The rage of the latter was now fully excited,
and he arose to avenge the death of his sons.

It appears that on this occasion Krishna was entirely
unarmed, and the only substitute that offered was the
sea-weed already noticed, which grew among the sands.
Some of this he now tore up, and with it smote the
destroyers of his children, all whom he could reach
dying on the spot. Others now flew to assail the life
of Krishna, but all who approached within the sweep
of his branch of sea-weed, fell to rise no more. The
people in general now ran to furnish themselves with
this singular material for slaughter, and armed with this
alone rushed to mutual destruction, inevitable death
awaiting all that came within its reach; father against
son, and son against father, and brother against brother,
and kindred of every degree against kindred, combated
with the same material, until all perished to the last
man. Such in short was the fatal result of the male­diction
of the three Rehkkisers.

In this tumultuous conflict fell, among thousands of
others, the sons and grandsons of Krishna; whose afflic­tion
it would be difficult to describe, when he beheld
among the slain the mangled bodies of his sons Purda­man,
and Samba, and Chardepas,*
and the son of
Purdaman, Anerdeha,*
and Gada,*
another of the
brothers of Krishna, including the greater part of his
illustrious kindred. While thus absorbed in sorrowful
contemplation of the spectacle before him, Dârek,
the charioteer of Krishna, intimated to his lord,
that just as the tumult was commencing, he observed
his brother Balbehdder quit the assembly and disappear.
Peradventure, he said, the calamity which proved
fatal to so many others might have extended also to him.
Aroused by the hint, Krishna directed that his car
might be brought, and mounting forthwith, accom­panied
by Beir,*
another of the chiefs of the Jadou
tribe, and his charioteer seated in front, proceeded in
quest of Balbehdder. They had not proceeded far when
they discovered him of whom they were in search, seated
under the shade of a Bur, or Banyan tree, with his eyes
closed, and totally absorbed in meditation.

Krishna and his companion approached in silence,
and quietly seated themselves beside him, his thoughts
being so entirely engrossed on other objects, that he
seemed unconscious that any one was by. Here Krishna
addressing himself to the charioteer, said, “Thou hast
witnessed all that has befallen this people; begone,
therefore, and make the best of thy way to Hastnapour,
to the presence of Rajah Judishter, acquaint him with
all that thou hath seen, and intreat that Arjun may as
soon as possible be sent to Duarka.” Dârek, accordingly,
mounting the car of his master, proceeded with all speed
in his power to Hastnapour.

On the departure of Dârek, Krishna turning to the
Jadou chief, by whom he was accompanied, said that he
also had been a sorrowful witness of the recent disastrous
scenes. It was his request now, that he would imme­diately
return to the city to provide for the protection of
their dwellings, lest a lawless banditti, taking advan­tage
of the absence of its defenders, might pillage the
place and abuse the women. He added, that his father
Basdeu, who had not quitted Duarka on the day of the
disaster, would also require his attention. As he was
hastening towards Duarka, however, this Beir, or what­ever
else was his name, was encountered by a drunken
fisherman, who beat him to death with a bunch of the
fatal sea weed. The circumstance having, by some
means or other, been made known to Krishna, he then
said to Balbehdder, that as he was apprehensive that the
city might be exposed to injury from lawless depreda­tions,
it was indispensably necessary that he should
repair to Duarka. He requested, however, that Balbehd­der
would remain where he was, without stirring from
the spot, until his return, which he assured him would
not be delayed a moment longer than was necessary.

Returning to Duarka accordingly, Krishna hastened
to the presence of his father, who was now, for the first
time, made acquainted with the awful story of that san­guinary
and unnatural conflict which had involved the
race of Jadou in total destruction. The venerable Bas­deu,
on information of the disaster which had thus
bereaved him of so many cherished relatives and friends,
became overwhelmed with sorrow, to which he gave expression
in the bitterest lamentation. “Alas, my
father,” interrupted Krishna, “the calamity which we
deplore may indeed be considered a disaster of unparalleled
magnitude, since it has terminated in the anni­hilation
of a whole people. Nevertheless, this is not a
time for the indulgence of such useless sorrow. I rely
upon my father’s care to provide that these unhappy
women shall be protected from injury, until the arrival
of Arjûn, whom I have already dispatched my servant
Dârek to bring to Duarka; and that Arjûn will soon
be here, I have the fullest expectation. In the mean
time I am compelled to leave you to repair to Balbehdder,
who is anxiously awaiting my return. Twice has it
been my destiny to witness the destruction of a whole
race of people; first, that of the sons of Kourû, and
in this last instance, that of my own peculiar tribe and
people, the race of Jadou. Thus bereaved of my chil­dren
and friends, it cannot be expected that I should
ever again appear at Duarka; and my determination is
therefore taken, with my brother Balbehdder, to retire
into the solitude of the forests, there to devote the remainder
of my days to the adoration of the Supreme.
He had embraced his father’s feet, and was about to
depart, when his attention was arrested by a most
piercing outcry among the women: a paroxysm of grief
which he could only endeavour to appease by reminding
them that against the will of God, and the dispensations
of providence, all human remedy was unavailing; their
only resource was resignation. As an inducement, how­ever,
to cease their lamentations, he assured them that
Arjûn would be with them on the following day, whose
presence would be sufficient to dispel every sorrow.

Having thus spoken, Krishna, bidding a last fare­well
to his father and all Duarka, quitted the place for
ever, and returned to the spot where he had left Bal­behddar.
He observed that his brother continued
seated, and resting against the tree in the same motion­less
position as when first discovered. But while he was
thus looking on, he perceived an enormous white snake
issuing from his mouth. The monstrous reptile exhibited
on its appearance not less than a thousand heads,
and making for the sea-shore, left Balbehdder a lifeless
trunk under the shade of the Bur tree. Krishna further
observed the sea assuming the form of a Brahmin, and
coming to meet the serpent, which he saluted with
expressions of ardent welcome. Innumerable serpents
from the internal regions of the earth, such as Bassek,*
and Kerkoutek,*
and Beyrun,*
and Pudma,*
and among
others might be distinguished Dertarashet and Burrun,*
this latter described as the genius*
presiding over the
waters, crowded also together to meet that form which
must now be understood to have been the soul of Bal­behdder.
The white serpent, however, continued its
progress into the sea, into the depths of which it finally
plunged and disappeared.

Thus an eye-witness of the exit of Balbehdder,
Krishna, a prey to sorrow, retired into a neighbouring
forest district; and there seating himself upon the earth,
with his head resting upon his knees, he ruminated at
leisure on the course of these melancholy events. “The
curse,” said he to himself “which Kandahâry imprecated
against, has at last overtaken me.” He had been more­over
forewarned, on some occasion or other, to be careful
of the sole of his foot, because if any mischief ever occurred
to him, that would be the direction in which it
would come. These circumstances, we are told, have
been noticed in the nineteenth Pourb,*
or book of the
Mahabharat. In conclusion, the whole race of Kouru,
as well as that of Jadou, having been thus exterminated,
Krishna said, that it now became his business also to quit
the world.

Having chosen his place of rest apart on the Jungue,
Krishna seated himself, laying one foot across his knee,
and first bringing his soul and intellectual faculties to a
common centre in the heart, he thence transferred them
finally to the crown of his head. Such was the posture
in which he had placed himself, when a hunter, with
his bow and arrows, came accidentally to the spot;
and at a little distance among the underwood, perceiving
the sole of Krishna’s foot, which rested across the knee,
he conceived it was the foot of some wild animal, and
letting fly an arrow, lodged it in the foot of Krishna;
and here we are apprized that the point of this arrow was
made from a portion of that identified wedge or piece of
iron which had been discharged from the bowels of
Samba, as described in another place.

Continuing to suppose that the object at which he had
drawn his bow was some animal of the chase, the hunter
ran up, and when he neared the spot, his astonishment
must have been great, when, four-armed and clad in his
saffron robe, the form of the immortal Krishna presented
itself. Immediately throwing himself at the feet of
Krishna, and explaining the nature of his fatal mistake,
the hunter implored forgiveness. Krishna, with many
soothing expressions, endeavoured to allay his distress,
finally dismissing him with these words: “Go thy way,
for thine is not the blame.”*

It is here again stated, that the piece of iron which
was the material of the fatal arrow-head was that which
by order of Aukra Sing, the Rajah of Duarka, had been
as far as possible reduced by filing, but the remnant of
which had been cast by the people into the sea. It so
happened, that a fish should have swallowed this identi­cal
bit of iron, and the same fish being caught by some
of the fishermen on the coast, was by them sold to the
hunter; on opening the fish, the iron was found in its
belly, and it was shaped by the hunter into the same
arrow-head, which was thus destined to be fatal to the
otherwise immortal Krishna.

On the departure of the hunter, a resplendent light
arose from the form of Krishna, which diffused its lustre
through the whole space from earth to heaven; and we
are told by the poet, that on this memorable occasion the
now expiring hero was attended by Ashwinikomâr.*
the eight Pess,*
the eleven Rudras,*
the twelve suns, the
forty-nine angels of death,*
the thirteen Basdeuas,*
together
with Nâred, and innumerable Sidhas,*
Kundru­pas,**
with Beswauss,*†
and Chetter Sing, and other
Apsara,*‡
as well as Deutas or deified spirits of every
class among the immortals, who now hastened to con­duct
the soul of Krishna to the abodes of the blessed. It
is added, that the same light which shone over the house
of his father Basdeu at the period of his birth, was that
which now illustrated the departure of Krishna, with
whom it disappeared from the earth.

Note that Kundrupas and A psara are known to have
been of the class of celestial spirits co-ordinate with angels
perhaps.

The celestial spirits who descended to become the
escort of Krishna to the region of bliss, united to the utmost
in enumerating the virtues of the hero, whom they
thus attended to the sphere of Indra; by whom he was
received with boundless joy, and conducted to the limits
of his sphere of the heavenly system. Then Indra
quitted him with the observation, that so far he was
permitted to accompany him, but no farther; and
Krishna was thus left to pursue his celestial course by
himself.

Having, as formerly indicated, in concurrence with the
orders of his master, made the best of his way to Hast­napour,
Dârek, the charioteer, the moment he reached
that capital, hastened to the presence of Rajah Judishter,
in reply to whose interrogatories he briefly announced
the entire destruction of the race of Jadou. So com­pletely
shocked was the Rajah by this intelligence, that
he instantly swooned away; but coming again to himself,
he desired that Dârek would relate to him circumstan­tially
all that he knew of this fearful disaster. Accord­ingly
Dârek proceeded to describe without reserve all
the circumstances of the fatal conflict, without omitting
the curse of the Rehkkissers, in which it appeared to
have originated, and thus terminating in the destruction
of an entire race, consisting of so many renowned and
illustrious branches. Rajah Judishter and his brothers
listened to the dismal narrative with sensations of alarm,
so much so, that although among the living they appeared
like dead men.

Arjûn was the first to speak: he demanded of Rajah
Judishter that he might be permitted to proceed imme­diately
to Duarka, in order to ascertain the fate of
Krishna and his father Basdeu, as well as the real extent
of the disaster, and its consequences. This permission
he obtained without difficulty, and he accordingly made
the best of his way to the scene of the recent tragedy.
On his arrival at Duarka, Arjûn found that city “like a
widow mourning for the loss of her husband. Bereaved
of the presence of Krishna and Balbehdder, and his
other illustrious friends, it appeared to him overshadowed
by a gloom far more appalling than he had been prepared
to expect; and he could not restrain himself from giving
loud expressions to his grief. At the same time the
sixteen thousand and eight wives*
of Krishna no sooner
sat eyes on Arjûn, than they commenced all at once such
piercing lamentations as filled the whole city with uproar
and consternation, all having lost either husband, or son,
or father, or brother, in the late catastrophe.

On witnessing this scene of mourning and woe, Arjûn
seems to have yielded to despair, and for a time to have
lost all powers of body and mind; but when he had con­tinued
in this state for some time, unable to determine in
what manner to act, he at last in some degree was restored
to his faculties, and he asked where it was that he should
find Basdeu. The women directed him to the spot
which the aged chief had selected for his abode. He
was found by Arjûn in a reclining position, but the
moment he saw him approach he arose, and Arjûn run­ning
to embrace his feet, the sight of his favourite friend
brought to his recollection afresh the perfections of his
heroic son. A paroxysm of grief ensued, and he was
for some time unable to speak; neither could Arjûn restrain
himself from lamenting aloud; and this coming to
the ears of the women of Duarka, they rushed with hair
dishevelled to the presence of Arjûn, and raised such a
sorrowful outcry, as spread through the city such an
example of distraction as the world had seldom, if ever,
witnessed before.

After some time, the tears of Basdeu subsided in some
degree, and he began to apostrophize with Arjûn on the
loss of his friend. “Alas Arjûn,” said he, “what is become
of my friend—whither is the hero gone, who slew
the wicked demons, and subdued so many puissant
monarchs!” When he had been suffered, however, to indulge
sufficiently in these ebullitions of grief, Arjûn
ventured to ask if he could explain the cause which had
produced such lamentable results—and he stated in reply
that all had arisen from the senseless dispute between
Sautek, whom he designated as the disciple of Arjûn,
and Kerretburma. “To the language employed between
these two persons,” said he, “is to be ascribed the total
destruction of the stock of Jadou. Nevertheless, I am
compelled to assert that the principal blame rests upon
Sautek alone; since Kerretburma and the other combatants
were inadvertently drawn into the fatal and unnatural
conflict. It is, however, not to be forgotten, that
although more remotely, the mischief had its origin in
the malediction of the three Rehkkissers. Thus bereaved
of my heroic son, the destroyer of so many oppressive
demons, the conqueror of so many powerful sovereigns,
of Kaunsa,*
and Keissy,*
and Seispal,*
and Ahelkeb,*
and Kaljûn,*
my sorrows must be permitted to take their
course; and although I know them to be unavailing, I
yield myself an unrestricting victim to my griefs. From
the time that he left me, I have neither eaten nor drank;
but he assured me at parting that Arjûn would soon be
with me, and would devote his attentions to my relief.
Ever since have I been anxiously looking for thy arrival,
and now that thou art on the spot, I cannot doubt but that
thou will hasten to fulfil the instructions bequeathed to
thee by thy lamented friend. These unhappy and afflicted
women, together with the gold and jewels, and all the
wealth and treasure which he left, are entirely thine to
dispose of at discretion. As for me, after the loss of
Krishna and Balbehdder, and so many other valued rela­tives
and friends, it will be impossible, on my part, any
longer to sustain the burthensome cares of this world.”

Deeply affected by the wailings of the venerable patriarch,
for such he must have been, Arjûn, when the
agitation of his feelings would admit, replied in the fol­lowing
terms:—“Alas, my father, when Krishna is no
more, of what avail to me will be the possessing of all
this treasure; dost thou conceive that after he has been
lost to us, either myself or my brothers will any longer
continue to exercise the sovereign power, or any other of
the functions of this sublunary world? This can never
be—Krishna for ever lost, neither Judishter, nor Bheim,
nor Nokkel, nor Sehdeu, nor Droopedy, will ever consent
to bear a part on earth. For my brothers, and Droopedy,
and myself, being as one person, their opinions will be
just as mine; and be assured that the instant I return to
Hastnapour, the cares of empire and all earthly concern
will be for ever relinquished. “Go thou my son,” at
last said Basdeu, “look to the condition of those whom
Krishna has left behind, and do with them as to thee may
appear most expedient.”

Invoking a blessing upon the aged chief, Arjûn then
took his final leave, and calling for Dârek, proceeded
with him to the palace of Krishna; where summoning
together such of the ministers and other Brahmins of the
household who had survived the recent carnage, they
soon assembled in his presence. Here beholding before
him all that remained of the adherents of his lamented
friend, Arjûn burst afresh into expressions of sorrow, in
which he was immediately joined by all present. At last
one of the Brahmins, after reminding Arjûn that all
these demonstrations of grief could not be productive of
any useful effect, called upon him without further delay
to fulfil the trust reposed in him by the departed
Krishna.

Arjûn now announced to them that in seven days the
whole city of Duarka would be overwhelmed by the sea.
“Hasten then,” said he, “to take those measures
without loss of time that may enable you to quit the
place at the shortest notice. Bring out your cars and
elephants and horses, and every kind of vehicle that
remains to you; and when ready, let them be loaded
with your gold and jewels, and such other property as
you may consider of most value. We must then make
the best of our way to Indraprest*
(that is Dehly), taking
with us the widows of Krishna. There still survives for
us one of the children of the departed hero, in Behrnaub,*
the son of Anerdehah,*
him also let us take along and
establish in the sovereignty of Dehly. On the morning
of the seventh day from this, and at the very instant we
have quitted it, will the sea arise and swallow up the
city; at your peril therefore be prepared for your departure
by the seventh day, for most surely shall all
perish in the inundation that remain in the place on
that day.

Arjûn passed that night in the palace of Krishna:
and in the morning after the performance of his ablutions,
when he was about to visit the aged Basdeu, his ears
were all at once assailed by the almost deafening outcries,
which issued from the residence of the venerable chief.
These arose from the wailings of some thousands of
women, who, with hair dishevelled, naked arms, and
vestments torn, rent the air with their lamentations.
Alarmed at the sudden uproar, Arjûn rushed into the
street to demand the occasion. The people came running
from the palace of Basdeu, announcing that, towards
the latter part of the night, the father of Krishna had
submitted to the hand of death; and that the outcry
arose from his fourteen wives, including Deuky,*
the
mother of Krishna, and Rouhny,*
the mother of Bal­behdder,
and numbers of other women, who were
lamenting aloud over the lifeless body.

At the annunciation of this event, Arjûn experienced
so painful a shock as nearly killed him, and he became
for a short time insensible. From this state he was, how­ever,
soon awakened by the widows of Krishna, who
called upon him to recollect that the crisis was too full
of peril to indulge in useless regret. “Do that,” said
they, “which shall most speedily remove us from this
devoted place, together with the body of Basdeu, lest
something should occur to prevent our departure alto­gether;
for we are not without our apprehensions that
some outrage may be attempted against us, when once
our enemies are aware of what has come to pass.”

Without further delay, Arjûn repaired to the palace
of the deceased, whose body he immediately directed to
be conveyed, on the first instance, to the spot where, on
some former occasion, Krishna himself had completed the
august ceremonies of the Ashmeida Joug,*
or grand sacrifice
of the horse. Basdeu, when alive, had indicated
the place to which he was desirous of being carried, and
accordingly, in concurrence with this desire, Arjûn with
his own hands lifted up the bier which bore his remains,
and conveyed them to the spot thus indicated—where,
the usual materials for cremation, sandal wood, wood of
aloes, and aromatic oils of every description, having been
prepared in sufficient abundance, the body of Basdeu
was laid upon the pile, and four of his wives consumed
themselves in the same fire.

Having thus acquitted himself of the last duties to
the remains of Basdeu, Arjûn now repaired to that part
of the coast where the race of Jadou had been destroyed
by mutual immolation. There such a spectacle presented
itself to his view, in the heaps of slain lying one upon
another, as to excite his astonishment. When he had,
however, sufficiently indulged in some heart-rending reflections,
he proceeded to give orders that the necessary
quantity of fire-wood and oil should be collected together,
and when all was ready, the bodies of such as he could
recognise, such as Pandaman, the son of Krishna, with
his brothers, and Sautek and Kerretburma, and Ekrour,
and many more, were laid upon the pile and consumed
to ashes. His next care was to send in search of the
bodies of Krishna and Balbehdder, and these being
found and brought to his presence, the pile of aromatic
woods and oil was renewed, on which they were also con­sumed.
He concluded the whole of these melancholy
duties with the other usual ceremonies for the dead, and
an offering of water to the souls of the departed.

Being then at leisure from these other cares, and the
sixth day being now arrived, Arjûn gave orders that the
whole population should immediately quit Duarka, and,
as had been previously arranged, take the road to Indra­prest;
on which the whole of the surviving inhabitants,
men, women, and children, with their slaves of both
sexes, and every other individual belonging to it, came
out of the city. Among these were the sixteen thousand
wives of Krishna, each accompanied by a crowd of attendants,
and others their relatives. The multitude was
led by the son of Anerdehah, and grandson of Krishna,
formerly adverted to and here called Bejernaum,*
while
Arjûn brought up the rear of the whole.

On the very day on which Arjûn caused the city to be
thus evacuated, the sea arose all at once, and in one stu­pendous
wave, while the people from without were yet
looking on at the appalling spectacle, rolling upon
Duarka, in an instant overwhelmed the whole city and
all that remained in it. Having witnessed this fearful
catastrophe, the people became now alarmed lest the inundation
might reach the spot on which they stood; and
it was with some precipitation that they therefore com­menced
their journey, on which they proceeded until they
came to the disemboguement of five rivers into the sea,
where they encamped.*

It unfortunately happened, that the inhabitants of the
surrounding territory were all highway robbers and
thieves of the very worst description. Observing an
encampment of such magnitude set up among them, and
the greater part of its inmates composed of women, with
an immensity of gold and jewels, and other valuable
property, with few if any men for its protection, it is not
surprising, that after consultation, they should have determined
to plunder and make themselves masters of
the whole. “Arjûn,” said they, “is but one man, and
what resistance can one man offer to the numbers that
we shall bring against him!” Accordingly, collecting in
great force, they poured into the camp, and proceeded
on their work of violence.

In these circumstances, Arjûn stood before the plun­derers,
and, in a tone of derision called out to them, that
as they came in safety, so they might depart—otherwise
they must prepare to experience the well-known fatal
effects of his famous bow. Perfectly regardless of what
he said, the robbers continued their work of pillage,
pouring into every part of the encampment, and carrying
off all they could lay hands on. Some of the banditti
now approached to attack the person of Arjûn, and the
latter telling them that surely their hour was come since
they disregarded his admonition, proceeded to string his
celebrated bow, Kandeu.*
What must have been his
surprise and disappointment, when he found that with all
his strength he was unable to bend the bow; and it was
not until after a thousand exertions that he at last succeeded
in bringing it within the string. But after fixing the
arrow for discharge, his astonishment must have greatly
increased, when he found with all his endeavours that he
could not draw the bow. He now laid his hand upon his
sword, and here again he was doomed to disappointment,
for with his utmost exertions he was unable to disengage
it from the scabbard.

The robbers were now close upon him, and each of
them seizing a wife of Krishna by the hand, they were
carrying them off before his eyes into disgraceful bond­age,
when Arjûn became so overcome with indignation
that he was about to kill himself. Again, however, he
seized his bow, and after very many efforts, was at last
able to draw it. Several of the robbers now bit the dust;
but, contrary to former experience, which led him to
expect that his quiver, through the influence of some
supernatural agency, would as usual be replenished, he
found that by frequent discharges he had expended
every shaft. Arjûn in despair now rushed into the
midst of the banditti, and smote them in different direc­tions
with his bow alone. The robbers were however in
such numbers, that they continued, before his eyes, to
cary off the women, treasure, and jewels, and every
other description of property, almost without resistance.
It was then, finding that all his efforts to prevent these
deeds of violence and atrocity were unavailing, that
Arjûn sat down to bewail the cruelty of his destiny.
“Alas,” cried he, “my fortune expired with Krishna.”

In this extremity, lifting up his hands in prayer,
Arjûn supplicated the most high for aid, and hence
recovering some degree of strength and energy, he drew
his sword and laid many of the banditti dead at his feet.
Many of the women, all such indeed as remained uncaptured,
were thus prevented from being carried away,
and some part of the treasure and jewels was recovered.
Having caused the whole to be reloaded, and remounted
the women whom he had rescued from bondage, he con­ducted
them as before, towards Hastnapoor and Indra­prest,
the ancient name of Dehly.

He proceeded now without interruption, and brought
his charge safe to Gorkeiht.*
He had bestowed some of
the countries in his way upon the son of Kerretburma;
and he now conferred the government of Gorkeiht, the
territory about Panipet, then so called, upon the son of
Sautek. Having performed certain religious duties, and
bathed in the tank*
at Gorkeiht, Arjûn soon afterwards
came to Indraprest.*
The sovereignty of this latter
place, with its dependencies, as formerly proposed, was
now bestowed upon the son of Anerdehah and grandson
of Krishna, here designated by the name of Tchutter,*
or Betchutter.

Five of the wives of Krishna devoted themselves to
the flames at Gorkeiht. These were Rokmeny,*
Jamounty,*
Sepahdra,**
Semouty,*†
and Kandahary,*‡
the father of this latter belonging to the country of
Kandahâr. Sethahâmah with some others of these
widowed females, assuming the habit of the Senyaus­sies,*§
retired into the forests, where they devoted them­selves
to the service of the deity, and of them nothing
further was ever known.

Of the men who accompanied Arjûn from Duarka, he
left the greater part with the grandson of Krishna, at
Dehly; from whence, attended by a few others, he pro­ceeded
on a visit to Beyauss,*
whom he found seated
alone in a secluded corner. Having invoked a blessing
on the head of the sage, he announced to him that he
was Arjûn, come to offer his services. Beyauss told him
he was welcome, and desired him to be seated. Per­ceiving
that he was absorbed in some deep affliction,
and that his complexion had undergone an extraordinary
change, Beyauss demanded what it was that had
befallen him, that nothing remained of the radiance
which usually beamed on his brow. “Surely,” remarked
the sage, “thou hast had communication with
some childless young widow, recently bereaved of her
husband, or hast thou murdered a Brahmin, or basely
fled on a contest with the enemy.”

“Alas, my much venerated instructor,” replied Arjûn,
“of neither of the deeds to which thou hast referred have
I been guilty; but that which has overwhelmed me with
distress I am about to explain to thee. Krishna and Bal­behdder
have forsaken the world, and the race of Jadou,
that warlike race so well known to thee, hath all perished
in the waves of mutual immolation. Sautek, and Kerret­burma,
and Purdaman, and Gadheir,*
with five hundred
thousand more of that illustrious race have all fallen by
each other’s hands, who in this world had not their equal
in courage and magnanimity. Still it would be as easy
to convince me that they had dried up the ocean, or that
the sky was fallen, or the mountains in motion, as that
the immortal Krishna was dead.*
Listen then further
to the extraordinary things which I have to relate. I had
brought with me the wives of Krishna to a place where
five rivers enter the sea, when we were attacked by a body
of robbers, who plundered us of our treasure and effects,
and before my eyes carried off most of the women. I attempted
to string my bow in order to kill the brutal plun­derers,
when to my astonishment I found that all my efforts
to do so proved unavailing. Yet am I the same Arjûn that
when Krishna preceded my car, by my skill in archery
alone, broke the array, and entirely discomfited that host,
which contained in its ranks such renowned warriors as
Bheykempotâmah,*
Derrounatchâreja,*
and Kerren.*

“In short,” continued Arjûn, “such was the condition
to which, by the departure of Krishna, I was reduced,
that I was unable to contend with this band of misbe­gotten
plunderers: for to the departure of Krishna can
I alone ascribe the inglorious failure. I can only add,
that bereaved of a friend like Krishna, I do not wish to
live; and being determined no longer to exercise the
functions of royalty, the object of my present visit is to
advise with my venerated instructor as to the steps which
in such circumstances I ought to pursue; command me
then, my father, as to what I am to do.”

Deeply afflicted by the relation, Beyauss replied to
Arjûn in words to the following effect: “With regard
to what has befallen the race of Jadou, that was, doubt­less,
the result of the Brahmin’s malediction. But as to
Krishna, that matchless hero who purged the earth of
the presence of so many malignant demons, and their
polluted followers of the human race, he is returned to
that state of blissful existence from whence he came.
For him, therefore, this mourning is superfluous. Neither
is it to be denied, that exploits have also been performed
by thyself and thy brothers, which have never been sur­passed.
But now that thy career of fortune has reached
its close, it would well become thee to devote thyself to
those pursuits that will ensure thy happiness in a future
state. All things have their seasons, and hitherto has
fortune been attached to thee and to thy race. That
fortune is now declining, and the period is therefore arrived
at which it would be prudent to abdicate the func­tions
of earthly dominion. It was thy ascendant fortune,
be it remembered, that furnished the means which enabled
thee to achieve the discomfiture of such formidable opponents:
but now being in the wane, it is not surprising,
that thine efforts to bend thy celebrated bow, and to
repel the outrages of a rude banditti, should have been
unavailing. Wouldst thou, therefore, consult thine
eternal welfare, let all further concern with the affairs of
this world be abandoned for ever.”

In continuing his narration to Rajah Jemenjah, Bishempayin
proceeds to state, that when his conference with
Beyauss came to an end, Arjun took a respectful leave
of the venerated sage, and pursued his journey to Hast­napour,
to the presence of Rajah Judishter, and his other
brothers, who hastened to join him the moment they heard
of his return. Arjun repeated from first to last all that
had occurred in the consultation with Beyauss, and the
Rajah and his brothers were equally affected by what they
heard. It became, therefore, a subject of serious con­templation
immediately to relinquish all concern with
earthly grandeur, and all the cares of sovereign power.*

The historians of Hindustân, in prosecuting their nar­rative
of these events, proceed to relate, that when Rajah
Jemenjah had heard to the close, from Bishempayin, his
detail of the carnage near Duarka, and his account of
the demise of Krishna, Balbehdder, and Basdeu, he besought
his instructor further to describe to him what
were the steps taken by the sons of Pandu, on intelli­gence
of these fearful disasters. In compliance with
this request, Bishempayin states, that when Rajah Judishter
and his three brothers became thus apprized of
the final destruction of the race of Jadou, and the
departure of Krishna, the Rajah instantly determined
on abdicating the sovereign power, and withdrawing
from the world. In adopting this resolution, he
observed to Arjun, that it was scarcely necessary to
remind him that there exists in every period of time a
peculiar influence in directing the affairs of life. “You
say truly, “replied Arjun,” whatever comes to pass is
the work of time, and assuredly every period in time has
its particular influence over human events. Thus, at one
period, we were impelled to exercise the powersof royalty;
but the influence now in operation urges us with irresist­ible
effect, to discard the concerns of this world, and
leave the country for ever.” In this opinion, the whole
of the five brothers concurred without hesitation.

Rajah Judishter then directed that they would send
for Hejis,*
the son of Dehtraushet,*
and when he was
come, calling for Rajah Purtchapet,*
or Purrichet, the
son of Abheiman, and grandson of Arjun, he took the
diadem from his own brows, and placed it on the head of
that prince, thus consigned to him the sovereign authority.
He at the same time conferred the office of Vez­zeir,
or prime minister, on the above named Hejis, who
was not inferior in birth to any one. After which, send­ing
for Sepehdra, the sister of Krishna, wife of Arjun,
and mother of Abheiman, he announced to her that this
her grandson was destined to be a monarch of great renown,
the dominions of both the houses of Pandu and
Kouru having thus together devolved to him. The government
of Indraprest and its dependencies had how­ever
been previously assigned to her nephew Betchetter,
the grandson of Krishna; and he now admonished her
to conduct herself towards him with the same spirit of
harmony, as she must have seen to subsist between himself
and Krishna—to repress every ambitious feeling that
might actuate her to encroach upon the territory placed
under his authority—to maintain with him a constant
intercourse of friendship, and otherwise on all occasions
to treat him with every mark of attention and respect.

After this the Rajah and his four brothers repaired to
the Ganges, and therein performing their ablutions,
poured out repeated libations to the memory of Krishna
and Balbehdder, Basdeu and Purdaman, and the other
sons and relatives of Krishna. Returning then to his
palace, Rajah Judishter commenced a general dis­tribution
of food to the poor and needy, Brahmins as
well as Tchettrias,—propitiatory for the souls of the departed
worthies just mentioned. This was repeated for
several days successively; after which, a donation of
gold and manufactured goods, of cattle and horses, of
elephants and chariots, and female slaves, to an amount
beyond all calculation, was made to the same Brahmins
and the indigent of every class.

Having acquitted himself of these demands on his
munificence, Rajah Judishter sent to require the presence
of Kerpatchareja,*
and taking Rajah Pertchâpet
by the hand, he solemnly committed him to the tuition
of that celebrated sage, with the request that, as the
preceptor and patron of his race, he would give to the
young prince the same invaluable instructions in the art
of war, and every other branch of science, as he had
bestowed upon himself. He desired, at the same time,
that he would consider the child as his own, for that,
next after God, he had consigned the child to his pater­nal
protection, in the full persuasion that he would not
regret bestowing upon him every proof of kindness and
affection. Kerpatchâreja cordially accepted of the
charge, assuring Rajah Judishter that he should con­sider
the young prince as much his own child, as he had
formerly done with regard to Rajah Judishter himself:
and peradventure with stronger claims on his attention,
since the Rajah was going away, and leaving the child
to meet his destiny alone.

These assurances on the part of Kerpatchareja gave
ample satisfaction to Rajah Judishter, his brothers, and
the two matrons Droopedy and Sehpedra. Having next
assembled the Vezzeir, and other dignitaries and discreet
personages of the monarchy, the Rajah announced to
them that he had resigned his authority to his young
relative, whom he now presented to them, in perfect
confidence that they would yield to his successor the
same proofs of zeal and loyalty as they had uniformly
manifested towards himself. The announcement was
received by all with a sensation of deep regret. They
stated that of course they should not contend against the
dictates of his authority, and that they were prepared to
obey any one to whom he might think fit to consign them.
“For this child,” said they, “is he not already our
superior lord, and how should we for a moment fail in
our duty to him? But we have not yet been able to
divest ourselves of the apprehension, that in thus abdi­cating
the sovereign power thou art leaving us without
a head.” “My friends,” replied Rajah Judishter,
“hitherto it has been, indeed, my destiny to discharge
the functions of earthly power, but my allotted period
has reached its close. Henceforth my exertions must be
directed to ensure by my deeds what may avail me in
another world.”

Then in the presence of all, taking the earrings from
his ears, the enriched collar from his shoulders, the
rings and bracelets from his hands and arms, the Rajah
divested himself of his royal robes, and put on what was
to serve for his future clothing, a doublet made of the
bark of a tree. His four brothers, Bheim and Arjun,
Nokkel and Schdau, with their wife Droopedy, immedi­ately
followed the example, and putting off their splendid
apparel and jewels, clad themselves also in the bark of
trees. They then took the sacred fire which they kept
in their houses for the purpose of sacrifice, and cast it
into the Ganges, the whole population of Hastnapour,
men and women, raising such piercing cries of lamenta­tions
and mourning, as surpassed all former example.

The Rajah and his brothers seemed, however, to rejoice
at the change in their lot, and accordingly took
their final departure from Hastnapour, accompanied by
Droopedy, and followed by a single faithful dog. They
were accompanied, at the same time, by the whole of the
inhabitants, both men and women; of these, however,
the Rajah and his companions took not the slightest notice,
neither encouraging them to proceed, nor desiring
them to remain at home. Observing, therefore, that the
self-banished and illustrious exiles declined speaking to
or taking any further notice of them, the people at last
gradually dropped behind, and finally returned altogether
to the city. Hejis, the Vezzeir, seemed determined still
to attend them, but from this he was dissuaded by Ker­patchareja,
through whose advice he also returned to
Hastnapour. Abouny,*
or Abouly, the wife of Arjun
and daughter of Baussek,*
walked into the Ganges,
and disappeared: and Tchetterangdah,*
the mother of
Bebberbahn,*
went to reside with her son. The other
wives of the five brothers remained under the protection
of Rajah Purtchapet, at Hastnapour.

It was about the rising of the sun that the sons of
Pandu, with their wife Droopedy, commenced their pil­grimage,
followed by the faithful quadruped. Rajah
Judishter led the party, being followed in succession by
Bheim Sing, Arjun, Nokkel, and Sehdeu, after whom
went Droopedy, and last of all the dog. In this order
they proceeded, directing their steps towards Bengal,
until they came to the side of a talaub, or lake, on the
extreme borders of that country, called the lake of Poust.*
Here, while engaged in their ablutions, a form appeared
to them in the likeness of a man, but in stature tall as a
mountain, and the lustre of whose countenance spread
a flood of light through all the space around. Approach­ing
the sons of Pandu, the being announced to them that
he was the element of fire; and that it was for his grati­fication
Arjun, on some remarkable occasion, had pre­served
the forest of Kandehn,*
until he thought fit to
consume it with his own breath. “Now,” continued he,
addressing himself to Arjun, “that thou hast withdrawn
from the world, give to me thy bow Kandeu and go
wherever thou wilt.” He further apprized them that the
Tchukker, or Tchakra, of Krishna had already been deposited
here. It being then agreed by the brothers that
the bow was no longer of any use to them, Arjun threw
both bow and quiver into the lake, and the form imme­diately
disappeared.

The illustrious wanderers now turned south into the
countries of the Dekhan,*
and having traversed the
whole of those regions, they came to the territory of
Gujerat.*
Having also visited every object of devo­tion
in that country, they came to the place where once
Duarka stood: and when Arjun exclaimed, “Here once
was Duarka,” the whole broke out into bitter lamenta­tions.

Their course was next directed towards the country
of the four rivers, the Punjaub,*
and continuing their
progress from thence northward, they came to the moun­tainous
range in that quarter, and finally to Mount Himautchel.*
Proceeding thence they passed another
mountain entirely composed of sand, after which they
arrived at the mountain of Semirparbut.*

Here casting their eyes behind them, they beheld that
Droopedy had sunk to the earth. On this Beim demanded
of Rajah Judishter in what this unfortunate
woman could have offended, that she should have been
thus separated from her friends? The Rajah replied
that there was nothing with which to reproach Droop­edy;
but she had one fault: although equally bound to
each of the five brothers, she gave the preference to
Arjûn, whom she loved the best of all, and hence it
arose that she was condemned to be thus separated.
With pitiless indifference the brothers left their once
loved Droopedy thus abandoned to her fate. Some
days afterwards they were proceeding on their pilgrim­age,
when suddenly Sehdeu also dropped to the earth.
To a question similar to that which had been put with
regard to Droopedy, Judishter replied, that Sehdeu had
neither guilt nor blemish; but that he had the vanity to
conceive that in science, particularly in astronomy, he
was without his equal. With the same indifference they
had shown towards the hapless Droopedy, they now
abandoned their brother to his fate.

They had not, however, proceeded much further,
when, with the same suddenness as had happened
to his former companions, Nokkel fell to the earth.
“Alas,” exclaimed Bheima, “this brave youth was
distinguished for every virtue that can adorn the character
of man, and for faithful zeal in the service of his
elder brother he had not his equal. Why is it then that
he has thus untimely fallen?” “His fault,” said Judishter,
“consisted in thinking that, in personal beauty
he was unrivalled.” The brothers, however deeply affected,
without saying a word more, and with the same
indifference to the fate of their companion, as before,
continued their journey.

There remained now the three brothers and the faith­ful
quadruped which bad followed them from the begin­ning.
Suddenly, the heroic Arjun sunk to the earth.
“Alas, my brother,” cried Bheim Sing, “an untruth never
fell from the lips of Arjun, and in other respects how
numberless were his virtues! what untold blemish was
it that has condemned him also to this fatal separation?”
“Thou hast spoken truly,” replied the Rajah, “this our
heroic brother, excepting in one point, was a faultless being;
with his bow in hand, he thought the whole world did not
contain his match; and he had the vanity to boast that,
if he chose it, he could at any time, in a single day, con­sume
his enemies in any number. For this arrogant
opinion it is that Arjun also has met an early fate.”
With the same unpitying indifference as on the former
occasions, the two surviving brothers quitted the form
of Arjun, and went their way: but they had not pro­ceeded
far, when, like those who were gone before, Bheim
fell to the earth, crying aloud to Rajah Judishter that he
also had fallen, and stating it as his last request that he
would explain to him wherein it was that he had offended,
that he also should be thus torn from the society of his
brother. “Alas, my brother,” said Rajah Judishter,
“thy vice consisted in being an enormous eater, and in
conceiving that in bodily strength thou hadst not thine
equal. Therefore it is that thou hast fallen.”

Rajah Judishter was now left with no other companion
than his dog; and he was proceeding, as before, on his
journey, when he beheld coming to meet him on the road
the god Indra, seated in his car, formed of precious stones
of transcendant beauty. Indra invited him to ascend
the car, observing that he would conduct him to Soorg,*
the abode of the blest. “Until this sorrowful moment,”
replied Judishter, “my brothers and myself have been
inseparable, although for the present they have one by
one been lost to me. To ascend to heaven alone, leaving
them on earth, I can never consent. If thou wilt con­descend
to take them along, I am prepared to accompany
thee; otherwise, where they remain, there shall be my
abode.” Indra announced to him in reply, that his
brothers were gone before, and, together with Droopedy,
awaited his arrival in heaven: and moreover, that he
was about to convey him to those blessed abodes, in the
very form and body in which he then stood. The Rajah
expressed himself satisfied; “but,” said he, “this dog
is my servant, and I shall take him with me.” “Where I
am about to convey thee,” said Indra, “this dog can
have no place; and there, where thou art going, thou
wilt thyself immediately become a Deuta;*
leave, there­fore,
the dog where he is.” “How can I accede to any
such thing,” replied the Rajah—“The dog has served
me faithfully for many years, and I cannot now consent
to desert him; unless, therefore, thou art willing to take
the dog along, leave me where I am, for while I have
life I will never forsake him.”

“I cannot forget, that in the catalogue of crimes there
are four that exceed all others in enormity; first, is that
of delivering over to his enemies the man who has sought
and obtained your protection; second, is the murder of
a woman; third, is that of taking by force that which is
the property of another; fourth, is to betray your friend.
I could add a fifth, which I consider of no less magni­tude;
that which leads a man, in reckless disregard of
the claims of faithful servitude, to abandon his servant in
distress. This faithful quadruped is vitally devoted to
me; for when, in the course of my painful pilgrimage,
friends and brothers all forsook me, he alone remained to
the last, to share my fate. To ascend to heaven alone,
and desert him at such a crisis, would be in me an act
of baseness to which I could never reconcile myself—
only consent to take my dog along, and I am prepared
to attend wherever thou art disposed to lead—if not,
cease to trouble me, and leave me where I am.”

Bishempayin here explains to Rajah Jemenjah, that
the dog which was the subject of all this discussion, was
no other than Dehrrem*
(Virtue) or Charity, which had
assumed this form, in order to accompany and make
proof of the moral rectitude, fidelity, and benevolent
spirit of Rajah Judishter, and had hitherto eluded the
discovery of even Indra himself. Now, however, he had
witnessed the last decisive proof of the Rajah’s determi­nation
to forego the bliss of heaven itself, rather than
desert his dog, he resumed his proper form and addressed
the Rajah in the following terms: “A thousand bless­ings
be upon thee Rajah Judishter, for thy numberless
and inestimable virtues, but more especially for that inflexible
integrity which has borne thee safe through every
trial. For well and rigidly hast thou been tried, and I
thank thee that I have found what I sought for. Once
before I appeared to thee, and that was in the form of a
ram,*
at the period when, with thy brothers, Jerjudehn
expelled thee from thine house. When, also, thy four
brothers were among the slain, and I asked thee to determine
which of them I should restore to life, and thine
election was in favour of Nokkel, notwithstanding the
pre-eminence of both Bheema and Arjun, it was in that
form that I stood before thee.” This we are informed is
all circumstantially related in that chapter or book of the
Mahabharat entitled the Pourrub benn.*
“That was
one occasion,” continued the genius of virtue, “on
which I put thee to the proof; and this on which, rather
than separate from thy dog, thou hast refused to accompany
Indra himself to heaven, is the second, and I
pronounce that there is no one like thee.” Dehrrem had
been now recognized by Indra, who besought his forgive­ness
for not having sooner recollected him.

After this Indra and Dehrrem and Ashnikomâr,*
with
others of the Deutas or Demigods, proceeded to place
Rajah Judishter in the car of Indra, in which they now
ascended towards the realms above. Having continued
their celestial course for some time, they perceived that
Nâred was approaching them, and him they all saluted
with becoming respect. On this occasion that mysterious
personage did not hesitate to pronounce, that of all the
sovereign princes, and devout and otherwise illustrious
individuals that ever trod the earth, the merits must
have been inferior to those of this Rajah Judishter;
since not one among them all ever attained to the signal
privilege of thus ascending to heaven with the same
body and form as he had animated on earth. Upon
this, placing his hands together in a posture of supplica­tion,
Judishter besought of Nareda, Indra, and the other
Deutas who accompanied him, to take him to the place
where his brothers had gone before him; for if they took
him to any other, be it good or be it bad, he would not
remain there.

Indra thought fit to remind him that the world which
he now saw was widely different from that which he had
left, for here he was not permitted to wish for the presence
of his brothers. “This,” said he, “is a state in
which we are akin to nothing but the immaculate essence
of the ever-living Supreme, the fountain of all purity,
and the dispenser of all good. Here, accordingly, it is
not for every one to arrive, but for those alone who are
the objects of his favour; and here thy brothers cannot
come.”

Still Rajah Judishter continued to expostulate with
Indra. “All I ask,” said he, “from the Almighty
Supreme is, either that I may be permitted to take my
brothers with me, or if not unworthy of such goodness,
that they may be conveyed by any means to the same
place with myself. If, on the other hand, they are con­sidered
unworthy of such favour, I can only implore,
that wherever they may be, I may there be sent: for
where my brothers and Droopedy are not present, I
cannot taste repose.”*

Those who have undertaken to transmit to posterity
the events of this history, proceed to relate, that in his
conference with Bishempayin, Rajah Jemenjah now
besought him, since he had announced the reception in
Soorg of the sons of Pandû, to say, as he doubtless well
knew, and he, the Rajah, was anxious to learn, where
it was that Jerjudehn and his brethren had taken up
their abode in the other world. Bishempayin states in
reply, that when Rajah Judishter was carried to heaven,
one of the first objects that met his eye, was the same
Jerjudehn seated on a throne, his countenance beaming
with radiance like the sun, and numberless Deutas or
demigods sitting around. At such a spectacle, Rajah
Judishter could not suppress his indignation, and he was
turning away, when the Deutas by whom he was accom­panied
demanded the cause. The Rajah replied, that
he should not go to the same place with Jerjudehn—that
guilty person, for whose gratification a whole world had
been consigned to mutual slaughter—on whom the ties
of blood had so little influence, that he could drive him­self
and his brothers, however nearly akin, to be helpless
wanderers in the wilderness. These were injuries, he
said, that had no parallel, and that nothing should
induce him to enter, much less abide in the same place
with Jerjudehn. “Take me,” continued he, “O take
me to the place where my brothers repose.”

Nâred, who was one of the blessed spirits by whom he
was still accompanied, cautioned Rajah Judishter to
beware of such speeches, for this was not a place where
malignant passions were permitted either to be indulged
in, or to be borne in remembrance. “Jerjudehn,” said
he, “is a personage of such pre-eminent grandeur, that
even the Deutas do homage to him, and the glory to
which he has been admitted, is not greater than they are
entitled to, who die on the field of battle. In short,” con­continued
Nâred, “here no remembrance is retained of
what passed on earth between man and man: what
passed on earth remains there still, but here animosities
have no abode.”—“If Jerjudehn,” rejoined Rajah
Judishter, “has been permitted to obtain an abode in
bliss, where then are my noble brothers, all of whom
were men of truth and matchless virtue? My sole
anxiety is to visit those brothers, and my other heroic
friends and relatives—to behold again the countenances
of Kurrun, and Sautek, and Dreshtahdaman,*
and the
sons of Droopedy, Abheiman and Sehkundy, and those
of Dreshtahdaman, as well as of the Rajahs Drooped*
and Beyraut.*
Shew me where they are: for where
they are not I can have no abiding place. But more
especially am I desirous of seeing the heroic Kurrun.”—
“Be it so,” observed the attendant Deutas—“come
on and thou shalt see them all.”

Nared now led the way, followed by Rajah Judishter,
when most unexpectedly they fell upon a track of the
very vilest description, involved in darkness, covered
with mud and clay, with human hair and flesh and
blood scattered in all directions, while the sense of
smelling was assailed by the most offensive and loath­some
odours. He beheld also a great fire and hideous
reptiles gnawing at the bodies of human beings—iron
wheels*
for torture in great number—he beheld also
numbers of human forms whom they were torturing
with instruments of fire of various descriptions, and
some of whom they cast into iron caldrons of boiling
oil. There were also trees of fire to which they sus­pended
those whom they were employed to torture.

Agitated to the last degree by the horrible spectacles
thus presented to his view, Rajah Judishter demanded
wherefore it was that they had brought him to this
abode of misery? The Deutas who preceded now turned
to him and said, that if he wished to see his brothers
this was the way by which he must go. The Rajah
declared that by that way he would go no further;
and he was accordingly turning back, when all at once
the voices of his brothers and Droopedy smote his car,
expostulating with him in the following terms: “we
had rejoiced in some degree in the hope that by thy
presence we should at last have been delivered from this
fearful place—leaving us thus, whither wouldst thou go?
while thou art present they cease to torment us.” Recognizing
the well-known voices of his relatives, the
Rajah stood fixed to the spot, and demanded who they
were that could be condemned thus fearfully to suffer?
They then repeated one by one aloud the names of
his brothers and Droopedy, and in short of all his
relatives. “Alas!” cried Rajah Judishter, “what
might have been the offence that could have brought
upon you such tortures as these? It is to me not less
strange than unaccountable to witness what I have seen,
in the state of bliss and glory to which Jerjudehn has
attained, whose whole life was one course of guilt and
wickedness—and my brothers in this state of suffering,
who trod without ceasing in the paths of virtue, and
whose undeviating study it was to do that which is
acceptable to Him who is the fountain of purity, and
supreme over all existence. Can this then have been
the work of celestial spirits, such as you are?” Then
further addressing himself to the Deutas, by whom he
was attended, he said—“Is it then through you that
Jerjudehn, whose deeds on earth are so well known to
all, should have obtained such a place in glory, while
my blameless brothers and unoffending relatives are
thrown into the state in which I find them? Leave me
where I am, for hence I will never depart.” And in
this resolution he continued inflexible, however urged
to the contrary by the Deutas. They accordingly left
him seated where he was, and returned to the presence
of Indra; to whom they related what had passed,
stating the stern and positive refusal of the Rajah to
accompany them.

Indra, attended by the whole of the Deutas, now
hastened to the place where Rajah Judishter had been
left, when all at once the fire, and the various means of
torture, with those that suffered under their infliction,
entirely disappeared; and, in the midst of the Deutas,
stood the personification of virtue, Dehrrem, in its most
attractive form, addressing the Rajah in the following
terms: “Thrice, O Rajah, have I now put thy virtue
to the proof, and thrice hast thou been found worthy of
applause. The first time was when I appeared to thee
in the form of a Tcheitcha—the second, when I accompanied
thee in thy pilgrimage in the form of a
dog—and the third time is that, in which I have thus
revealed to thee the torments prepared for wicked
men.” Indra then also addressed Rajah Judishter,
assuring him that by these proofs of unshaken virtue,
he had filled the Deutas with universal joy—that to all
monarchs it was allotted once to visit the region of
condemned souls.*
He that sees affliction may depart
in joy: and he that at first meets with something of
delight, may ultimately find his way into the place of
torments. That the Rajah’s portion in sin having been
indeed extremely small, it was considered a sufficient
atonement, that he should for a short time have been
condemned to view, without partaking in the torments
of hell, and for that purpose the frightful scenes he
had witnessed had been laid before him. “At the
period thy brother Bheima slew the elephant, whose
name was Ashutahama,”*
said Indra, “it was thy
boast to thy preceptor, Derrounatchâreja, that the
hero of that name had been slain; which induced the
sage to think that he had lost his son. Now as there
existed in this a semblance of falsehood, so has it been
assigned to thee as an atonement, to contemplate what
bore the resemblance of hell, and its punishments—
in which it appeared to thee that thy brothers and thy
wife, Droopedy, were partakers: and thus finally hast
thou been absolved from the stain of sin and guilt.”

“Come now with me,” continued Indra, “and I
will conduct thee into Soorg, that abode of the blessed
—there thou shalt behold the disembodied spirits of
all those heroes who died with thee in the conflicts of
the field of battle, and who have gone before thee to
Heaven; and these are now seated in the abode of
Kurrun—of Kurrun the offspring of the sun, whose
abode is now amidst the radiance of his father’s beams.
For the great sacrifice, the Ashmeidajoug, also per­formed
by thee on earth, this reward will be in full
proportion. The monarchs who before thee have been
the benefactors of mankind, the authors of all acts of
beneficence, such as Rajah Hurtchund,*
Rajah Man­dehâta,*
Rajah Bhagirat,*
and Bharat,*
the son of
Dhekent,*
have all attained the most exalted state of
glory, and for thee also is reserved a similar state of
glory and perfect felicity. By this passage it is that we
communicate with the earth; but whoever bathes in
yonder stream,*
puts off the form of man, and assumes
that of the Deutas, or demigods.”

Rajah Judishter and the Deutas now approached the
bank of the sacred Ganges; in which having bathed,
he found on coming out of the stream, that he had put
off every vestige of the human form, and put on that
of the Deutas, or deified heroes. His countenance
assumed a radiance like that of the sun, and he was
completely purified from the influence of anger and
envy, and all the malignant passions incident to the
nature of man in his mortal state. After this transformation,
he was invited by the Deutas to accompany them
further on.

He proceeded accordingly, admiring, as he was carried
along in these several blissful abodes, the disembodied
spirits of departed heroes, and other approved servants
of the Most High, until he came to the place where he
beheld Krishna in his four-handed form, holding in
either hand respectively the Tchukker or Tchakra,
[perhaps thunderbolt] the horn,*
the mace,*
the mysterious
gem,*
and the Pudma.*
Near his divine
friend stood the heroic Arjun; and on one side he beheld
Kurrun surrounded by twelve suns, or luminaries like
suns. Near the genius, or spirit, which presided over
the winds, he beheld the warlike Bheim Sing; and Nok­kel,
and Sehdeu, he beheld in the society of Ashouni­komaur.
*
On inquiring for Droopedy, the Rajah was
now apprised by Indra, that that illustrious female was
in reality the goddess of fortune,*
who, on his account
had assumed the human form, and who in consequence
of an invocation by Mahadeu,**
was born in the palace
or family of a certain Rajah. “As to the five sons,”
continued Indra, “of whom she became the mother,
there they are all standing near her.” The Rajah looked
accordingly, and beheld the five sons of Droopedy
standing behind their mother. “Your uncle Dehr­toraushat,”
resumed Indra, “was of the celestial order
of Kundaroups,*
behold him standing there;” pointing
to a particular space in the heavenly region, “and as to
the Saudha*
and Deutas, and thy kindred the whole
of the Jadous, from whatever stock derived, there they
all are reposing in the various places allotted to them.”

“Abheiman,” continued Indra, “we know to have
been the offspring of the moon, and there he appears
accordingly in the same mansion with his sire; with
regard to thy father Rajah Pand, both he and his wives
Konty*
and Maudery*
have been allotted an abode with
me. Bheykempotaumah having been born of one of the
eight Bess,*
he will at present be found where they
are. Some of the sons of Kourû were the issue of a
Kundaroup and some of a Rajihs;*
some also derived
their birth from a Jejah, or Jetcha.**
And accordingly
all of that race who may have fallen in battle will be
found in communion with the stock from whence they
sprung.”

When Bishempayin had proceeded thus far in his
narration, Rajah Jemenjah interposed to remark that in
mentioning the names of so many illustrious personages,
it seemed strange that he should have omitted those of
the Rajahs Drooped and Beyraut, as well as of
Kehrougah,*
the son of Bheim Sing, of Derberrat
Keit,*
of Tcheit Sing, of Rajah Setheit,*
and of many
others that appeared to have escaped his notice. “The
same questions,” replied Bishempayin, “which you
have now proposed to me, was formerly urged upon
Beyauss by certain Rehkkisers, and the answer of
Beyauss shall be mine to you on this occasion.”

Beyauss stated that certain mysterious beings had
occasionally appeared on earth through the medium of
an Outaur, Avataur,*
or descent, for some benevolent
purpose known to the Most High alone. These, when
they had continued on earth as long as was necessary to
the designs of the Supreme Being, terminated their
mortal existence, and returned to the place from whence
they came. Of these Derrounatchâreja was an Avataur,
or incarnation of Purhusput,*
and on earth acquired
the sciences peculiar to that divine personage. As soon,
therefore, as his years came to a close, he returned to
that state from which he had been taken. Purdaman,
again, who was an Avataur of Sonnetkomaur,*
Dehr­toraushet
of a Kundaroup, and Rajah Pand with his
two wives, were all united in the communion of Indra.
Rajah Drooped and Rajah Beyraut, with Derreshekeit**
and Tcheit Sing and Oukra Sing, and Basdeu,*†
and
Krishna, and Anerdehah; all these latter were incarna­tions
of Basdeva. Jerjudchn is in communion with
Kaljoug, and Shikken with the Duapra. Budder and
Rajah Judishter are in the communion with Dehrrum,
the personification of Virtue. Balbehdder was the
Avataur of Seihggah Nag,*
the serpent monarch, and
is again united to the source of his Being.

The sixteen thousand wives of Krishna who drowned
themselves in the river Sreswatty,*
all ascended to
heaven, and are united to the Apsara. Kehroura being
of demon race is in communion with the Rajihs,
formerly mentioned. The brothers of Jerjudehn, and
others of those individuals whose names I omit to repeat,
are gone, some to the sphere of Indra, and some to that
of Burrun, the spirit which presides over rain.

The details of the Mahabharat afforded to Rajah
Jemenjah the utmost delight; and having soon after
concluded the ceremonies of the sacrifice in which he
had been engaged, he dismissed the multitude of Brah­mins
and other pious mendicants who had througed to
the place, loaded with presents, to their several abodes.

It was by command of his instructor Beyauss, or
Veiasa, that Bishempayin related to Rajah Jemenjah the
whole of this eventful story from beginning to end; and
the reason why the work in which it is contained received
the title of the Mahabharat, is thus explained.
At a remote period there lived at Hastnapour a com­mon
ancestor of the sons of Kourrû and Pandu, whose
name was Rajah Bahrat,*
a monarch of such transcen­dent
renown, that none who succeeded ever attained to
such a pitch of glory, either in puissance or extent of
dominion: and as the work related to the exploits of his
descendants, the designation of Mahabharat was bestowed
upon it.

One good effect to be derived from hearing the nar­rative
is this. Whoever the Brahmin is that may listen
with serious attention to this story from the commence­ment
to the close, he shall in battle never be defeated.
Another is, that a pregnant woman listening with similar
attention, shall assuredly be the mother of a prudent
and intelligent child. Whoever also shall faithfully read
the contents of this work, such as they are, without
variation, shall have the enjoyment of much good;
while he that is even a simple hearer, and no more, shall
for the most part enjoy a life of happiness, without ever
being visited by any affliction of serious magnitude.

We are further informed that this great work of the
Mahabharat was composed by the sage Beyauss himself,
in the space of three years; that it is fraught with the
jewels of meaning, and with details of rare and extraor­dinary
interest, in infinite variety and number; and we
are lastly assured, that whoever shall read this book of a
morning, bearing the attainment of any particular object
in mind, will eventually succeed to his heart’s content.

And, last of all, we are now told that the original work
was translated from the Sanskrit*
language into Persian,
in the space of a year and a half, by Nekeib Khaun;*
several Brahmins learned in the original having knowledge
of the undertaking, and explaining to the sinful
translator, in Hindy, regularly as they proceeded in the
reading.

The Persian copy from which the above has been
translated into English was finished on the eleventh day
of the former month of Rabbeia of the 1126th of the
Hidjira, corresponding with the 16th of March, A.D.
1714, being the 3d year of the reign of Furrukh Seir.